Fudge Flies and Flobberworms
by PiER
Summary: With the appearance of an opinionated four year old, Minerva McGonagall is forced to reassess her life. I’m aiming for fluff so be warned. Eventual ADMM
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** It all belongs to JK. Rowling

Fudge Flies and Flobberwoms

Chapter 1

"Gran!"

The child's whisper hissed through the bedroom unheard by the sleeping occupant. With a slight frown the young girl tiptoed closer to the large four-poster bed and repeated herself but achieved little success in waking her grandmother. Leaning in very close with her pudgy cheeks inches from her grandmother, the child hissed "Granny!" and conveyed her annoyance by poking the woman's shoulder. With a start her grandmother awoke and at the sight of two bright green eyes the girl scrambled backwards in fright.

"Grace?" The woman asked in confusion.

In the moonlight she saw the young girl stood a few feet away with her hands behind her back, biting her lip. She spared a quick glance at the clock on her bedside table, it was 3 o'clock in the morning. She sat up and in a softer tone repeated her granddaughter's name. This 'Gran' relationship was entirely new to her and truth be told felt it rather daunting. As the silent moments ticked past the lady struggled not shiver in the cool night air.

"You awake?"

Grace's question puzzled her grandmother who felt momentarily lost for words. However, a response seemed required so smoothing down the quilt cover in an effort of maintaining a semblance of normalcy, she did her best to give a reassuring smile and a nod.

Again the two lapped into silence.

"Grace, it is awfully late," but trailed off unsure of how to proceed. Although it had been too many years since she had cared for a four year old, she highly doubted that immediately ordering the child to bed would do the trick.

"Passed wee lassies' bedtime."

Grace continued to fidget and it was then the grandmother noticed a doll clutched under her granddaughter's arm.

"Aren't you tired?"

Big grey eyes stared silently back.

"Is there something the matter?"

With a flick of her wrist, the grandmother lit a candle casting a golden glow around the room and finally received a reply.

"You sound like her."

Again Grace had thrown her. Just whom did she sound like?

"You talk the same."

The girl had woken her up at 3 o'clock in the morning for this?

"You're not from France."

Another unexpected turn but with it came enlightenment. Part of the child's mysterious past was revealed in that one sentence.

"No, lassie, I'm not from France."

Perhaps gaining her confidence, the girl took a tentative step closer.

"You're Scottish. Like Mum. You sound like her."

A stab of guilt pierced the Scot's system at the thought of the girl's mother. It had been too many years. Reluctant to take a stroll down memory lane, she drew her attention back to her granddaughter.

"I'm Scottish, you're mother's Scottish, my mother was Scottish, as was her mother. We go back a far way."

"Mum says you are what you eat."

It was hard to keep up with the twists and turns of the four year old mind.

"I _don't_ eat escargot. I _do_ eat Fizzing Whizzbees."

It took a moment to fully comprehend the implications of the child's confession. She did not wish to be a snail but held no reservations towards whizzbees, fizzy, whiz, or perhaps just bees in particular. Merlin, she had completely lost control of the situation! On another level she did register that the flawless French further confirmed her suspicions.

"There's a picture."

The young, grey eyes widened as if the little girl had surprised herself with her own words. However, having finally started it seemed Grace could not stop and the words tumbled out of her mouth in jagged, half formed sentences.

"Of you. In a box. A red box."

Her hands were no longer behind her back but crossed across her chest hugging the doll tightly.

"Under the bed. Mum's bed."

Once again they lapped into silence and the older of the two wondered how she was expected to reply. She had no pictures of her one and only granddaughter, did not in fact even know of her existence until seven hours ago. She did, however, have many pictures of the little girl's mother, photo albums stacked full of memories.

"Grace…" and she faltered. In front of her stood, of all things, her _granddaughter_ of whom she new absolutely _nothing_ about. For a total sum of seven hours this precious being had been in her life, they shared the same blood yet she did not even know her full name.

"Gran?"

"Oh Grace," she sighed. "Whatever are we going to do?"

TBC

_**A/N:** I don't know what's come over me. I just had this desperate need for fluff which is completely out of character for me. This first chapter might not make you reach for your toothbrush but rest assured there is more to come. This will not be a megathon multi-chapter never-ending story. The gist of it is plotted out and I say now, this will serve no other purpose than to fulfil my requirements of cute and fluffy. Is this too confusing? More will be revealed…_

_I know that I am behind on updating _Behind the Deep Depths of Green and Blue_ and _Toothpaste Kisses_ but I've had to fly home because my grandfather is in hospital and so I don't have access to my computer! Eegit that I am forgot it in my mad dash for the airport! This is just a little something I have typed up at my auntie's._

_TTFN_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **It belongs to the fabulous JK. Rowling.

Fudge Flies and Flobberworms

Chapter 2

Grace woke to raised voices and froze, taking a moment to remember where she was.

"Mum?" Her childlike voice rang through the bedroom but received no answer.

She fidgeted out of bed and found Arabella, her doll, on the floor.

"Come on, Belly, let's find Granny."

Her little feet padded across the rug but came to stop at the door that stood slightly ajar. The argument from the other side floated through.

"Well if our resident medi-witch is unable to perform a newt-standard transfiguration spell then perhaps Hogwarts shall be requiring a new medi-witch upon the morrow." Definitely her grandmother and she did not sound happy.

"Really, Minerva, that is not what I meant and well you know. No harm will come from letting the two of them stew an hour more, if anything it will teach them a lesson. However, you're avoiding my question which makes me suspicious."

Grace popped her head through the door but the voices were coming from further down the hall.

"I'll ask again, shall I? What is the suitcase for?"

By now Grace was hopping from one foot to the other. She needed the bathroom and from the corner of her eye she could see the blessed retreat just a few feet away. The door was wide open and the bathroom tiles sparkled invitingly. Before she could change her mind, young Grace was sprinting across the hall, slamming the door shut loud enough to disturb the two arguing witches.

"Minerva? Is there someone else here?"

The toilet flushed.

"My private life is just that – private. Now, thank you for informing me about my two Gryffindors and I will be sure to speak to them soon, but I do have other matters to attend."

Grace struggled to reach the tap to wash her hands but before her frustration had time to reach its limits, two long arms hoisted her into the air. As the mirror above the sink came into view Grace grinned at her grandmother who gave a crooked smile back. She dropped the soap twice before managing to wash her hands but her grandmother was patient even helping her with the toothpaste when brushing her teeth.

"Right then, Grace, we have a very busy day ahead of us."

"We do?"

"We do."

Grace, not forgetting Arabella, followed her grandmother into the living room where she sat on the indicated footstool between the settee and the roaring fire.

"Granny?"

"Yes?" she answered, conjuring a brush and carefully detangling Grace's black locks.

"Why were you shouting at that lady? Don't you like her?"

Grace let out a small squeal as her grandmother tried to brush out a knot rather viciously in her opinion.

"Sit still, Grace and we'll be done a lot faster."

"She called you Nerva. Is that your name?" Grace tilted her head back to catch her grandmother's eye, her face pulling a disbelieving look. "Nerv-_a?_ N_er_va_?_Ner-_va?_"

"My _name_," the brush pulled more tightly, "is _Mi_nerva. Minerva Morag McGonagall."

"Do you know what my name is, Gran?"

This time when Grace turned around Minerva stopped brushing. She hesitantly leaned forward enabling her to look her only granddaughter straight in the eye. Her thoughts from mere hours before plagued her mind. If Minerva thought the girl shy she was sorely mistaken.

"You've got green eyes." To Minerva's surprise Grace's pudgy fingers softly traced her facial features. The childlike tingle of a giggle escaped her lips. "Granny Green Eyes."

Before she could stop herself the words had escaped her, "And Gracie Grey Eyes?"

A stronger peal of laughter echoed through the room and Minerva felt a small smile tug at her own lips. The innocence of youth was too easily squandered.

"You're silly, Granny Green! Mum never said you were silly."

The curious side of Minerva wanted to ask just what had her mother said about her but a larger part of Minerva feared the answer. She did recognise the need in the child to speak of her mother and even if Grace did not miss her now, in the days to come she would. Swallowing past the lump forming in her throat, Minerva continued to smile but was less successful in keeping her tone light and merry.

"And your mother has great big brown eyes." For the briefest of moments Grace's grey eyes melted away. "But if you look closely enough you'll see tiny specks of green shimmer when she's angry."

A sorrow crossed her features and perhaps Grace sensed it because she poked her grandmother's cheeks and smiled with a childlike innocence, adding in a singsong voice, "You still don't know my name."

The little girl's playful enthusiasm was infectious but an increasingly smaller part of Minerva was reluctant to engage in such frivolity, it could only lead to heartbreak. But then her eyes refocused on her granddaughter and her darling giggle won her over.

"Well that won't do, will it?" Tapping Grace on the end of her button nose. "How do you propose we resolve that?"

"My name is Wendelin Moppet Mittens Celestina Catriona McCormack." Minerva raised a regal eyebrow as Grace quickly added, "Gracie Tinkerbell McGonagall."

"And I'm the silly one?"

"Alright," Grace sighed, whirling around so her feet could warm in front of the fire as she leant back on the footstool, her head hanging over the end, sizing her grandmother up upside down. "My real name is Jaqueline Grace Amorette Iris McGonagall."

The name held more meaning then Grace realised and again there was a hint of a flawless French accent.

"Sometimes Mum just calls me Jam. You know because of the Jaqueline Amorette McGonagall bit. She said she had to name me Iris and when I asked her about Gracie she said I was her saving grace."

By now Gracie had rolled over onto her stomach with her chin resting in both hands. Her black locks a tangled mess.

"Gracie girl," Minerva whispered.

"Jam," the four year old nodded. "Raspberry Jam because I fart like a fwooper let loose in a cabbage patch!"

Peals of child laughter bounced around the room like it had not heard in years. Minerva managed to quench the urge to reprimand her granddaughter mainly due to her own amusement. Struggling to know how to react Minerva was saved by a knock at the door. If it was Pomphrey she secretly vowed to show no mercy. She told Grace to stay put but there was no dampening the child's spirits. Minerva briefly toyed with the idea of casting a mild silencing charm not wanting the intruder to stick her nose in where it did not belong. Another knock but Minerva was determined not to be rushed. When she finally did open the door surprise was evident on her face which in turn brought an even wider grin to the visitor's face.

"Ah, there you are! The Queen of my castle!"

**TBC**

_**A/N:**__ Thank you ever so much for the very kind reviews and your concern for my grandad is greatly appreciated._

_I hope I didn't go too far with Gracie but it has been my experience that this is the normal behaviour of four year olds. Granted my cousin has just turned five but still._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **It belongs to the fabulous JK. Rowling.

Fudge Flies and Flobberworms

Chapter 3

"Ah, there you are! The Queen of my castle!"

"Albus?"

He kissed the corner of her lips, pulling back quickly.

"So what do you think? Like my new robes?"

He held his arms wide, twirling extravagantly. The luminous colour cause for alarm.

"I've always found orange…appealing."

Her reply earned her a chuckle but Minerva was still too surprised to take notice. Albus was supposed to be at a conference and not due back until Wednesday.

"I see I have managed to catch Miss McGonagall unawares. It's the hat, isn't it?" He pulled the hat on and off his head, wiggling his eyebrows. "With or without? Such a quandary!"

"Well I suppose that depends on whether you are attending a teaparty or hoping to dazzle the ladies."

Again the eyebrows wiggled disarmingly.

"And my charming smile isn't enchanting enough?" He did not wait for a reply but continued. "So, my dear, how are you?"

"Well, your unexpected return has now ruined my strategic takeover of Hogwarts. I had plans to sack the medi-witch and was in fact just on my way to seal off your gargoyle."

"Ah, just how has Poppy managed to get on your wrong side so early in the morning? I'll have you know that she was quite insistent that I come see you at my earliest convenience. She seemed to be labouring under the misconception that your owl of resignation has flown out of my window, escaping my notice, and that you are packing your bags as we speak. She told me to, and I quote, 'get my sorry self up those stairs and grovel'." Hidden behind a chuckle he added, "She also mentioned the possibility of you not being alone."

It was said in jest but the words riled Minerva unnecessarily. She found herself wishing to goad the Headmaster and before she could think things through the words had passed her lips.

"And is that so absurd?"

It was said more sharply than needed and the teasing atmosphere abated, Albus choked on a chuckle.

"Well…no."

Before her eyes, the greatest wizard this side of the moon squirmed, looking for all the world as if that particular thought had not once crossed his brain. Minerva felt increasingly annoyed, she was not over the hill quite yet. She didn't think.

"But…are you alone?"

His eyes were wide as if suddenly realising the weight of Poppy's words.

"No."

Well aware off the implications insinuated with her denial, however, Minerva felt it served Albus right for being so presumptive.

"Ah." His eyebrows rose to such an alarming height Minerva struggled to stifle her amusement. "I'll come back at a more opportune moment then."

She had half a mind to continue this torture but she had left a four year old unattended, time was a luxury she did not have. She would spare him this once.

"Albus, don't be so foolish. You were bound to find out sooner or later."

She moved back from the doorway, reaching out for his hand.

"Really, Minerva, I think it's for the best." Albus tried to shake her off, slowly backing away. "Why don't I just pop by after lunch? Or perhaps you have made plans already? Of course you have and you'll be no doubt busy this evening. Why don't we just arrange something for a later date and I'll just get out of your hair."

He was rambling and it endeared him to her all the more.

"Albus. _Albus_, just who do you believe to be in here with me?" He shook his head and waved his hands and at the sight of his swishing beard Minerva finally gave into the giggle that had been threatening to bubble forth from her throat. "Honestly Albus, you can be rather…sweet."

She took hold of his hand and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

"Yes my most formidable description – sweet."

He was trying to make light of the situation but she could sense his discomfort. It was then the seriousness of the situation hit her. Sitting in the next room was her one and only granddaughter, here to stay with her for an indefinite amount of time. Her daughter had said that it would not be for long but then again she had never been the most reliable of souls.

"Actually, Albus." A treacherous sigh passed her lips. "Truth be told, I'm in a bit of a…pickle."

Well no not so much a pickle as a full blown oh-my-Merlin-what-the-bloody-hell-am-I-going-to-do but Minerva was never one to panic.

"Need me to help dispose of the body?"

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze earning him a slight quirk of her lips.

"It will be your body that will need disposing, if you're not careful."

He pulled her closer, rubbing her back, knowing that although she was not one to often show emotion she was even more unlikely to admit needing help.

"I've bested one crazed maniac, I might not have it in me for another. So on that basis alone, I shall take heed of your warning."

She gave him a gentle shove.

"Wise move."

Then with a deep sigh she led Albus though to the living room. The nearer they drew the louder Grace's laughter grew. Minerva could feel Albus's wide-eyed stare and though her footsteps became slower she was reluctant to come to a complete halt for then an explanation would be inevitable. In a role reversal, Albus gently tugged Minerva into the living room where they found Grace on her knees jumping up and down on the settee. Minerva turned to Albus giving him a feeble, lopsided smile to which he blinked then returned his gaze back to the bouncing child.

"This, Albus," Had Minerva been a religious woman, the moment would have been perfect to offer up a prayer, as it was she settled for a jaw-clenching smile. "This is my- granddaughter."

It seemed Albus's eyebrows had taken up permanent residence two inches higher than their normal home. However, despite his shock, his twinkle sparkled in full force, Albus loved children.

"Vee?"

"Came to see me late last night."

She cast a pointed glance in the child's direction and Albus understood it was not a conversation for little ears.

"Gracie, the sofa is for sitting on." She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers beckoning her granddaughter. "Now come and say hello to the Headmaster."

Grace curled close to her grandmother, her little body pressed close to Minerva's thigh. Her big grey eyes regarded Albus apprehensively as he crouched down low holding out a hand.

"Well, how do you do, Grace?"

Both her hands remained clamped tightly to Minerva.

"I do a lot of things but how do I do them?" She shrugged. "I don't know."

Minerva's frowned whilst clarifying, "She says a lot of things like that. I can't explain it."

At this Albus barked a laugh and tousled Grace's hair. Standing back up straight he began rummaging through the many pockets of his bright orange robes. A rustling was heard before he produced his find.

"Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

Grace shook her head.

"Are you sure, I've never known a child to turn down a sweetie?"

"I'm sweet enough."

"And how can one argue with that?" The comment was accompanied by a tap on the little girl's button nose.

Minerva was dreading breakfast.

**TBC**

_**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews, they are greatly appeciated as I know this is just pointless fluff._


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